Church, Malls, Costco, and Other Phobias

I’ve decided to go to church. I’m terrified. I smoke cigarettes because I am often terrified. My father does not approve. Currently, I’m out of cigarettes. I’m also out of money… so I’m just terrified.

It began last Sunday evening, I think – my sudden decision to go to church. Some of you reading this may be under the false impression that I didn’t stop identifying myself as a Christian or that I could remember the last time I went to church. Allow me to clear things up for you: prior to this last week, I could not, in fact, recall the last church service I visited; and the idea of anything related to church, “Christians,” etc. made me nauseous and pissed off. If this information is surprising, please make a note of how well I control my temper and how VERY hard I tried at whatever you’re thinking of.

As I was saying – and please don’t interrupt me again – it began last Sunday evening, I think. My brother and sister-in-law had led worship at their church, and they were sharing about it. It was devastating to listen to. I hid and wept – as is my way – until I could bury the devastation altogether again. It didn’t stay buried.

Monday, I thought my sacral chakra was just blocked when I started feeling the shame and panic.

Tuesday, I tried to unblock my sacral chakra in meditation, and the panic got worse. I hid in my room all day. I was supposed to vote for Hillary and the legalization of marijuana, and get a pap… well, and go to work… but I could only watch The Santa Clause and smoke.

Wednesday, I woke up, curled up in a ball, and stared at the outlets on the wall for an hour before climbing into the closet. My roommate is an extraordinary human being. She insisted that I get out of bed and then sat and talked with me until I could get out of the closet. We went to church that night for worship, and I was LIVID by the end of that worship service. Abraham Hicks says this thing about how anger is a hell of a lot better than depression, but when you move to anger from depression, your friends don’t like you as much (http://www.discoveringpeace.com/the-abraham-hicks-emotional-guidance-scale.html). When we left church and I was furious, we were both like – well, that’s an improvement; I jumped up 5 places on the emotional scale.

Thursday, I was a lot better until I got shit-faced and made a fool of myself.

Friday, I had still moved up further on the scale, but I was still at the “Worry/Blame” spots for a long time. I drifted up to “Contentment/Hopefulness” by the end of the day (thank you, rich tax payers for my food stamps – something about grocery shopping is the perfect tension between fear of lack and empowerment of prosperity).

Saturday, at “Positive Expectation/Belief,” I took inventory, balanced my chakras in yoga and meditation, and I had a vision of rough, jagged bark being stripped from me, having an ointment finished into the hard, smooth wood beneath the bark, and being filled again with freshly charged chakras.


Allow me to pause for a word about chakras: “Chakra” is a word that refers to a person’s potential for input/output of energy, sort of. I don’t want to explain what they are. I only want to say that it’s not evil. It totally makes sense that God (yes, the Christian one) would make humans with chakras. There are a lot of ways that I could (eventually) translate the concepts of meditation, metaphysics, yoga, chakras, etc. into Christianese. However, I am not going to, because I do not wish to expend energy in that direction (I would be filled with little other than hate as a result of doing such a thing). 


I had my spiritual GPS re-route me in a different direction, and I set out toward Real Allyson again. It’s only a little bit surprising that I didn’t travel for very long (downstream) before making a couple of really neat discoveries.

There is a boy that I work with that I’ve been sort of making friends with/that I wnat to be friends with. Anyway, the point is, he lives super far away and goes to church RIGHT by my apartment. I accidentally was drawn to, like, the one Christian. We had, what was for me, a great conversation that left me feeling a lot less isolated and offended. I said things that reminded me of parts of Real Allyson that I’d forgotten.

Once I was in my car, my Papa gently asked me if it was at all possible that church wasn’t some big evil that stole my identity, shattered my heart, estranged me from my family, and banished me from God’s presence?  (Is the “church alternate reality” just “The Upside Down” from Stranger Things?) He reminded me that I’ve had those things/feelings happen to me more than once as a result of my lack of identity (or whatever you’d call it when you give a person every part of you to make it into whatever they want from you). He reasoned that Hanford hospitals have taken away from me people that I love because of misdiagnoses, but I went to a hospital a couple of weeks ago because I couldn’t breathe and received great care.

Now, I’m not saying I’m going back to church. I’m saying this:

While I have learned a LOT (everything there is to learn) (just kidding) about myself, about God, and about fellow seekers and humans; and while I like this Allyson, I miss my Papa and my Jesus, and I just miss church. I don’t really think the way America does church makes any sense or is right or healthy, but for the first time in my life, I don’t want to go because I want to be anything. I’m not looking for anyone to tell me who or how to be. I just want a seat at the table. I have food, and the water is there. I just want a seat at the table.

Now of course it’s after 3am, and I’ve spent WAY too much time telling you the story of what would possess me to ever go to church again (Costco is still another story)… It would be foolish to choose to sleep only 4 hours so that I can be extra busy tomorrow. The point is the momentum. The point is the direction and the movement.

Also, I’ve wanted to develop a habit of blogging.